Boys of Summer
by Amy-Violet
Summary: Sequel to Summer Nights, but you don't have to read that first. Sam returns to Lima in time for sectionals, and he and Blaine discover they are still as drawn to each other as ever. But Blaine is with Kurt and Sam has Mercedes to win back, so what are they to do?


**A/N: By request-hope you're not disappointed, Gleeville!  
**

"It means that I'm not for sale."

He really didn't mean to say the one thing that would hurt Sam the most. It was just...

He and Kurt were happy. They were. And...not to be crude or anything...but he was finally getting some. _Finally_. But it was totally worth the wait...or it would have been if he had actually waited. He had mostly waited. He had waited to go all the way...he hadn't done that without Kurt. And it was worth it.

Not two hours ago, in fact...Kurt had been uncharacteristically aggressive for the last couple days. It had something to do with whatever he and Sebastian had talked about at the Lima Bean while Blaine was getting more coffee—he knew that but didn't question it, as he was totally happy just reaping the benefits. Kurt had gone down on him in the car right after that, in fact—in the garage, so it wasn't _that_ kinky, but still. And now, still...two days later, Kurt was still all ramped up. At lunch today, they had gone to Kurt's house, where he had begged Blaine to fuck him on the couch. Which Blaine had happily done.

So it wasn't desperation. It wasn't desperation that made Sam's "dance moves" have the particular effect on him that they did. Sam had actually said something about being desperate, but Blaine _wasn't_ desperate, and desperation was the only way he had justified to himself how he had...There was no other way to say it: how he had cheated on Kurt with Sam over the summer.

And now, God help him, he just wanted to do it again.

As if yesterday hadn't been bad enough. First there was the shock of just seeing him again, and being with Kurt at the time so he had to act cool. And fuck if Sam didn't look hotter than ever, even all bundled up like he was so you couldn't see any of his amazing definition, much less skin. And then that song he sang! Yeah, it was just a novelty song, sure. A novelty song about a _cup_. A novelty song that referenced underwear and testicles. A novelty song that included the line: "I fill you up."

Santana marching in and talking about his mouth didn't help any either. Blaine did not need to be reminded about the gorgeous perfection that was Sam's mouth. How perfect it had felt surrounding his cock. And Sam—he didn't get mad at Santana, he just stood there and smiled. His mouth was perfect even he was doing stuff with it that wasn't sexual at all. Not to mention how his eyes looked when he smiled...

But that was okay. Kurt was so great and so beautiful, and he'd gone home with Blaine after school. And when Kurt sucked him he barely thought of Sam's mouth at all. And when Kurt fucked him...Well, Kurt didn't actually fuck him. Kurt liked to bottom and that was cool, because Blaine loved to top him. Blaine hadn't even felt especially deprived by never getting to bottom...except when he thought about Sam's cock in his ass.

And how wrong was that? It wasn't like Kurt would refuse, probably, if Blaine told him he really, really wanted to bottom. The problem was that he didn't really, really want to...for Kurt. So, yeah, really wrong.

It was fine, though—or as fine as possible. He couldn't undo cheating on Kurt over the summer. But he wouldn't do it again, obviously. There wasn't even any reason to: Kurt was giving him everything he needed. Of course seeing Sam again unexpectedly had affected him in unfortunate ways. That was the guilt, probably. He totally deserved it. But now all he had to do was deal with the guilt on his own and just...just get used to Sam's presence again. And once he was used to it, seeing Sam would be no different from seeing Finn or Puck or Artie or Mike or Rory.

But he'd never seen Finn or Puck or Artie or Mike or Rory dance like _that_. Well, maybe Mike. Mike's dancing was amazing, and Blaine couldn't honestly claim that he'd never given him a second look when he danced. But it wasn't the same. _Mike_ hadn't been a stripper, showing off (and maybe more?) his incredible body for money. _Mike _didn't have an incredible body that Blaine had already seen and felt intimately—and how could he not be reminded of that when Sam was doing body rolls in front of God and everybody?

"Look, I came back here to win," Sam said. "When you're desperate, sometimes you gotta, you know, use your assets and do what you gotta do to get back that advantage. This..." and he rolled his hips seductively, as if Blaine needed any reminded of what Sam's assets were "...is the advantage."

"Of course that's what _you _think. You have to think that in order to sleep at night."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that I'm not _for sale_."

Sam shoved him, and understandably so. It was a cheap thing to say and Blaine knew it. If Finn and Mr. Schue hadn't stepped in...Well, who knew?

Blaine stormed off, trying not to think what might have happened without their intervention. Sam might have hit him, though he didn't really believe that. What he was really afraid might have happened is that he might have tried to kiss Sam. Right there in front of Kurt. That was why he had to get the hell out of there.

He went to the gym to work out some of the...the tension. The punching bag. Not that he felt like punching anyone, but the gym didn't have a fucking bag. There was Kurt, but he couldn't use him like that. He'd already treated him really badly, he knew that, but he didn't want to make things even worse.

He was standing at his locker, having just pulled his sweater off, when Sam walked in. "What's your problem with me, man?" he demanded.

"Leave me alone. I don't have a problem with you."

"Coulda fooled me."

"I have a problem with me, all right? I have a problem with how bad I want you, and I know that's not _your _fault..."

But what happened next _was_ Sam's fault. He gripped Blaine by the waist and backed him against the lockers, covering his mouth with his bruising lips. His tongue filled Blaine's mouth as Blaine struggled not to stop the kiss but to keep up with it. Blaine clutched at the short hair at the back of Sam's head and tried to pull his face closer, as if that were possible.

When Blaine did extract his mouth from Sam's, it was to bury it in his neck, right below the ear. There was a spot, right there, that just smelled so Sam...and tasted so Sam...The scent and the flavor sent his brain straight back to those three summer nights, and that was the only place he wanted to be.

"Sam...let me..." He didn't even know what he wanted, what he needed.

Sam, eyes closed, head tilted slightly back, breathed heavily, "Anything. Anything you want."

Having been given permission to do anything he wanted, Blaine continued what he was already doing: trying to inhale and devour Sam through that one spot on his neck. Sam let out a long guttural moan that went straight to Blaine's cock...as if Blaine's cock needed any additional stimulation. He found himself rutting against Sam's thigh—weakly, because he was pinned against the locker—while humming into his neck.

Sam stepped back just enough to give himself room to slide his hands under Blaine's ass, lifting him up. Blaine wrapped his legs around Sam so that now he was thrusting against Sam's cock, and Sam was thrusting against his.

Blaine's head rested heavily against the locker now, as Sam wetly kissed his neck and ear. "Sam...fuck..." And then he felt Sam's teeth on him, and then he felt those lips form a tight seal, allowing for sublime suction, suction that felt almost as good as if it had been on his cock, suction drawing all his blood to the surface...

"Fuck, Sam...stop. Stop!"

Sam pulled off his neck with a pop and looked at him questioningly, disheveled and dazed. "What's wrong?"

"You can't give me a hickey," he said. Kurt would see it, and...And that was why they shouldn't be doing this at all. Because he shouldn't do this to Kurt, not just because he might get caught. "I can't. I'm sorry. Kurt..."

"Right." Sam exhaled loudly and let Blaine down. "I'm sorry. I...I wasn't thinking."

"Yeah. No, me neither." Blaine held his neck where it was still hot and wet from Sam's mouth. "We just..."

"No, I get it. We can't do this." Sam ran his fingers through his hair. Blaine didn't know if he was trying to straighten it or if it was just an unconscious gesture—he knew Sam probably wasn't doing it deliberately to turn him on even more, but that's the effect it was having. So it was equal parts great relief and crushing disappointment when Sam added, "I'm gonna leave," and then did just that.

Once he was gone Blaine finished changing. Now way more than when he'd first come to the gym he needed to do something with his excess...he could call it energy, he guessed. Frustration, obviously. He refused to even consider trying to take care of it by jerking off. That seemed like it would be rewarding himself for...for what he'd almost just done to Kurt. Again. So, no.

XOXOXO

Blaine was right. Obviously he was right, they couldn't do...what they'd almost done. It wasn't fair to Kurt, especially since Sam was a guest in his home now and for an indefinite time to come. And it wasn't fair of Sam to even put Blaine in that position.

He kind of got why Blaine wanted him bad enough to risk hurting Kurt. Blaine was into dudes, and Sam was an attractive dude. His months of getting paid good money just to let people look at his body had proven that this was objectively true. And if Kurt still wasn't putting out, then Blaine must be out of his mind by now—probably any halfway good-looking guy who showed any interest would be a major temptation to him.

But why he wanted Blaine that bad was a bit more of a mystery. It wasn't like summer when he kept getting his hopes up with Mercedes only to get shot down again and again.

Mercedes. That's who he should be with. He should try again and _not_ cheat on her this time. Quinn said she was seeing someone else, but that was okay. It seemed right, somehow, that he should have to work to win her back.

And it wasn't that he wanted to be with Mercedes again to prove to himself that he wasn't gay. Not at all.

He just walked right up to her in the hall and took her hand. And it felt good, holding her hand again. Not at all sleazy like sneaking around with Blaine behind Kurt's back. Maybe a tiny bit sleazy because of Mercedes's new boyfriend—but it was just hand holding, and it was just for a second. Because Mercedes did just what he knew she would: she took her hand out of his and told him they couldn't. So yeah, she was definitely the kind of person he should be with. He would fight to get her back.

XOXOXO

Watching Mercedes sing with the other girls at sectionals made everything so clear. First, she was hot in that little silver dress. They all were, Santana and Brittany and those other girls too, but none of them had Mercedes's presence. And her singing—she fucking killed it. It probably had something to do with the song, but the confidence she had...she didn't need Sam or anyone.

It wasn't that he found that a turn-on, exactly. It didn't exactly turn him off either, but the point was that it made him realize something about Blaine. It made him realize that how bad Blaine wanted him _was_ a turn-on. That maybe _that_ was why he went so crazy around Blaine.

And he did feel crazy around Blaine still. Just look at him. He had the same stupid white jacket and black tie on that all the guys were wearing—it certainly wasn't revealing or anything—and he somehow looked so fucking hot. So what the hell was up with that anyway?

Not that it was about his clothes, obviously. The way he danced, Jesus. And it wasn't like he was trying to seduce Sam—though he was watching Sam as much as Sam was watching him. But he was seducing the whole damn audience. Sam was doing that too, but that was something he learned from stripping. And okay, some of his moves were directed specifically at Blaine; he just couldn't help it. With Blaine it was just his natural seductive personality.

After the performance, Sam knew they'd won, he just knew it. They all did. Everything had gone perfectly—they all just had a vibe. Not just the Blam vibe, though of course that was the one he was most aware of.

He didn't trust himself to approach Blaine in the choir room, until he saw Blaine hugging Finn and he knew he had to get in on that. He was cool about it, though, and it was just like a normal, friendly guy-hug among teammates who'd just kicked ass.

There was that moment on stage, waiting for the results, when he was nervous. He knew they'd won—he knew they _deserved_ to win anyway—but you never _really _know until you hear it out loud. So then when they did hear it out loud, it was, like, the greatest feeling ever. Or...the second-greatest. And it made him want that _greatest_ feeling, and fuck everything he'd decided about getting back with Mercedes and not helping Blaine betray Kurt again.

Blaine saw the way Sam was looking at him when they won. After they left the stage he stayed as close to Kurt as he could. He knew Sam wouldn't do anything to him against his will, obviously; he just didn't totally trust himself to be strong enough to resist.

But he didn't want to be clingy, and Kurt wanted to hug and congratulate everyone. You know, like a normal person who could trust himself around guys other than his own boyfriend. So it was inevitable that he would find himself with Sam sooner or later.

"Sam!" he exclaimed, giving him a shoulder clasp that he hoped seemed jovial and nothing more. "We did it! So glad you came back for this!"

"Me too, man!" Sam said. He returned the shoulder clasp, but he hand lingered a little longer than Blaine's had. He added, lower, "You were amazing. The way you sang, the way you danced..."

"Thanks," Blaine said, blushing. "You too."

"So..." Sam leaned closer so he could speak in a near-whisper. "Fuck, Blaine, you're so hot. Look, I know we shouldn't, and I know it's wrong—"

"Really, really wrong," Blaine said, frowning.

Sam pulled away again. "Yeah. Yeah, forget I said anything." He turned and hesitated a moment before walking off toward Mike and Tina. Blaine fought the urge...he _successfully_ fought the urge to run after him or call him back, and instead he went to talk to Finn. His boyfriend's brother.

Kurt joined them a minute later, and Blaine wrapped his arm around his waist. "Finn, it's time to get all these people over to the house!" Kurt said. He'd planned a celebration party, claiming to be confident all along that they would win. But Blaine happened to know that there were alternate back-up decorations in case the party had been consolation- rather than victory-themed.

He didn't want to go. He didn't want to be in a house with his boyfriend and his boyfriend's family and the guy he wanted to cheat on his boyfriend with. Not in the state he was in. In the state he was in, he wanted to lock himself in a room by himself until all these urges passed.

But he couldn't think of a way to explain that to Kurt...Well, there _was_ no way to explain that to Kurt. What he really needed but also couldn't think of was a plausible lie to tell Kurt to explain why he couldn't attend the party. So he went, with everyone else, including Sam, of course. Sam lived there now; where else would he have gone?

There was no drinking at the party. Burt and Carole were around so it wasn't even a question. Unlike at Mercedes's going-away party for Sam, no one felt the party sucked because of the lack of alcohol; everyone was in way too good a mood for it to matter. People sang and danced and laughed and talked; Blaine didn't even have _that_ hard a time keeping himself busy with anyone and everyone but Sam.

Around ten Burt and Carole started shooing everyone home. It had been raining all evening, and the temperature was dropping fast enough that soon the roads were going to be icy. Blaine was on his way with everyone else—everyone except Kurt and Finn and Sam—to get his coat when Kurt took his hand and pulled him aside.

"You're not leaving, are you?"

"Your dad just kicked everyone out. The ice—"

"I know. It's perfect," Kurt said, squeezing his ass. "I'll say you wanted to stay to help clean up, and they'll have to let you spend the night."

Blaine smiled. "Yeah. That is perfect." Spending the night with his boyfriend. What could be more perfect?

Burt called his parents to make sure it was okay with them if he stayed. "Your mother said it's fine," he told him after he got off the phone. "Carole and I are going to bed, so keep it down. With the _cleaning_."

Sam helped clean up too, and he managed to avoid looking at Blaine or Kurt while doing so. He and Finn chatted a bit, until Finn just sort of disappeared. Apparently cleaning wasn't really his thing.

Kurt groped Blaine a couple times; Sam acted like he didn't notice but Blaine knew he did. Especially when he said, "I can finish up if you guys wanna...go do something else." There was still kind of a lot of stuff to put away, and Kurt was usually pretty particular about that sort of thing, but he jumped at Sam's offer.

Sam watched—he tried not to, but he did watch—as Kurt gleefully pulled Blaine down the basement stairs. Blaine didn't look back at him, but then why would he?

The basement, of course, was where Sam's "bedroom" was now. He was sleeping on the hideaway in the rec room—the very couch where Blaine had blown him the first time, in fact. It was impossible not to wonder whether Blaine was on that couch doing the same exact thing to Kurt right now. Or vice versa.

The rec room wasn't exactly soundproof, not in the sense of having soundproofing panels installed or anything like that. But it must have been constructed pretty sturdily, because not a lot of sound escaped from it. Sam never heard anything when he walked by the stairs...which was more times than was strictly necessary. He avoided asking himself why he kept walking past and listening and whether he was relieved or disappointed not to hear anything.

The couple emerged from the basement an hour and twelve minutes after they went down there. Sam didn't _watch_ them or anything; that would be creepy. Just a glance or two over the top of the comic book he was "reading." And he certainly didn't comment, _Well, don't you guys look happy?_—though they did. Kurt did anyway. Blaine looked...well, he really didn't dare to look at Blaine too closely.

"Sorry, Sam," Kurt said, though he really didn't seem sorry at all. "I hope you weren't waiting to go to bed."

"No, of course not," Sam said, barely looking up from his comic. "If I was tired I would've gone downstairs. I wouldn't have been interrupting anything, would I?"

"Oh!" Kurt said. "Well, actually..."

"He's just teasing us," Sam heard Blaine whisper to Kurt.

Teasing? Not exactly what he thought he was doing.

"Well, we're going to bed," Kurt said.

"All right. Night!" Sam didn't look up until they were halfway up the stairs. Kurt had his hand on Blaine's ass. Blaine's ass was so fucking...off-limits. Blaine's ass was off-limits.

He went downstairs as soon as those guys were out of sight and got undressed for bed. He noticed that the washing machine was running but refused to speculate on what Blaine or Kurt might have needed to wash so late and night and why. He brushed his teeth in the little bathroom, pulled out the bed, and got into it.

Not that he was remotely tired. He badly needed to get off, and he was going to take as long as necessary to do so _without_ thinking about Blaine.

It was a lucky thing that Blaine had turned him down right after they won, because at that moment, if Blaine had said yes, Sam would have gone as far as Blaine would have let him. Now, of course, he could remember all the reasons that would have been wrong. Now he could focus his...his...Well, what else could he call it besides lust? He could focus his lust on something else. Some_one_ else.

Mercedes...

He reached under the sheet and slid his boxer briefs off his hips. He stroked his half-hard cock, thinking of Mercedes in that sparkly silver dress, of how he could see her thighs when she jumped or spun. Holding her hand in the hallway, that was nice. Until she pulled it away...because she was seeing someone else...Wait, how was thinking of Mercedes any less sleazy that thinking of Blaine?

Blaine...

And there went his cock, from half- to fully hard, instantly. And maybe it was because Blaine's hand had actually been on his cock before, unlike Mercedes's, or maybe it was just because Blaine was so fucking hot and that cute little ass and the way he smiled at Sam while Sam did his body roll during their song and...and, really, Blaine even made his stupid boy-band moves look sexy as hell. "Fuck, Blaine..." he said, right out loud.

He was _not _expecting Blaine to answer him, but he did. He was there in the rec room—Sam hadn't heard him come in—and he said simply, "Sam." And then he was in Sam's bed, under the covers, tugging at Sam's shirt.

"Blaine...what..."

"Can we do this now and talk about it later? Please, Sammy?"

And, god, there had only been three other times when Blaine called him Sammy, and so of course he nodded and pulled his t-shirt off, followed by Blaine's.

Blaine disappeared under the sheet, and he pulled Sam's underwear the rest of the way off. He didn't even ask why they were partway down to begin with; he must have already known.

"Ah!"

Blaine just bit his ankle!

After that second of surprise, having Blaine's teeth on him biting their way up his leg was intense and awesome. When he got to the knee he lifted Sam's leg and rested the calf on his shoulder; he started to lick and suck the soft crease behind the knee, and Jesus, that was a spot Sam never even knew was sensitive. His hands found Sam's hips and held them down against the mattress.

Sam needed to touch his dick—it was just down there, twitching, desperate for some contact. But he didn't want to do anything that might make this over too soon, and so he laced his fingers with Blaine's against his own hips.

Blaine kissed up the inside of his thigh, leaving a trail of spit. His hair, stiff with gel, brushed against Sam's balls; Sam bucked up, or would have if he weren't being held firmly in place. "Blaine...fuck...please..."

Disentangling his hands from Sam's, Blaine pushed Sam's legs apart wide enough for him to wedge his shoulders between them. And if he thought Sam's neck smelled good the other day—which it did—this was just...holy fuck, could you come from a smell alone?

How had he gotten through the last few months without smelling...without seeing, without touching, without tasting this beautiful cock? How had he gone his whole life without feeling it inside him? That needed to change. "Sammy?" he asked, lightly dragging his fingernails up his shaft.

"Ng?" Sam replied. Blaine glanced up and saw his eyes were shut tightly and he was biting his lip.

"I want you to fuck me, Sammy. Will you fuck me?"

"God," Sam said, exhaling a large amount of air. Blaine took this as a yes, and he took the tip of Sam's cock into his mouth, licking off and swallowing a large, creamy glob of precome. Sam whined and clutched the hair at the back of Blaine's head as he took more of more of his cock, until it was poking a spot far down in his throat.

Sam thrust shallowly; he couldn't help it. Another thing he couldn't help was noticing how much better at this Blaine had gotten since they'd last been together—and he'd been far from bad at it then! Blaine was gripping his ass, bobbing his head and sucking...fuck..."Stop, Blaine! If you want me to fuck you..."

Blaine stopped and placed some kisses around Sam's navel instead. He shimmied up until they were lying face to face, Blaine on top. He kissed Sam's neck, that same spot by his ear that he liked, and whispered, "I want you to fuck me so bad. I want your cock in my ass _so bad_."

Sam's hands were under his briefs now, on his ass, parting his cheeks. One finger descended to just inside the rim...and then abruptly stopped and withdrew.

Blaine's asshole was wet and...slippery, and...and Sam knew, as much as he'd been trying and mostly succeeding at not thinking about it, that he'd been doing stuff with Kurt not that long ago, but...but if Blaine actually had Kurt's spunk in his ass still..."Blaine, is that...?"

"Is what, Sammy?"

"Is that...Did Kurt...in your...?"

Blaine looked confused, but just for a couple seconds. "Oh! No! That's just lube."

"Oh. Well why...?"

"I..." Blaine really didn't want to talk about Kurt at all, but he didn't want to lie either. "I wanted...I wanted you to fuck me—I still want you to fuck me—but I didn't want to want it. I thought if Kurt would do it that would...make me not want it from you as bad. So I asked him to and he was going to..." because Kurt was a good boyfriend and Blaine was a horrible boyfriend and what he was doing now was so fucking wrong and don't even think about that now because it's _Sam_ and he's going to fuck you...still, hopefully "...and he got me ready...Do you know much about that?"

"I don't think...I've never..."

"Well, it's lube and stretching. Lube for, you know, slipperiness, and stretching so it'll fit without tearing stuff. So, you don't even have to do that for me. I'm all lubed and stretched and ready for your cock."

"Can I see?"

Blaine slid off Sam and lay on his stomach on the bed; Sam moved down between his legs. He pulled the briefs off and dropped them on the floor. Blaine's ass, Christ. So round and...and he wanted to bite it. And so he did and Blaine yelped and rutted against the mattress. He took a cheek in each hand and pulled them apart slowly until Blaine's little whole was fully exposed, all wet and shiny with...with lube.

"So he really didn't...?" Sam asked. It wasn't that he didn't trust Blaine, but...well, Blaine _was_ cheating on Kurt, so...

"No. He..._fuck_..." Sam was exploring, and Blaine was really glad he was prestretched because he'd just plunged two fingers in at once. "He likes to bottom so I...so we did that first, and he came, and I told him—_god, Sam_—I told him it was okay, he didn't have to..."

"I don't wanna insult your boyfriend or anything, but he's gotta be some kind of idiot if he doesn't want to fuck you. You're so...and your ass, my god...So I can just go ahead?"

"Yeah. Please, Sam!"

Sam pushed in hard, all at once. Blaine screamed and grabbed the corners of the mattress in a death grip. His whole body went rigid and then started to shake a little.

"Oh God! Blaine, I'm so sorry! I thought...I've never..."

Blaine managed to force the words "It's okay" out of his mouth. He never had either, but he really hadn't expected it to be this big a deal. He knew all about prepping, which he'd done. And Kurt had never fucked him but he had fingered him, so... But Sam just pounding into him right from the start...no, he wasn't prepared for that.

"What should I do?" Sam asked.

He didn't want Sam to pull out, even though it kind of...no, not kind of, it hurt. But it wouldn't, once he got used to it and relaxed. "Just hold still. Don't move at all until I tell you to."

"Okay." He felt terrible that he'd hurt Blaine; if he'd known he would have gone slow. But at the same time, and it would have sounded horrible to admit out loud, but pushing into Blaine the way he'd done had probably given him the single greatest feeling of his life. Blaine's ass was so tight and squeezed his cock just right. And having to hold still now, it was so hard, when his body (if not his mind) was screaming at him to move.

Blaine concentrated on breathing deeply. He couldn't...nope, he couldn't unclench his ass yet, but maybe if he started at the extremities and worked his way inward. Okay, toes? Easy, he could relax his toes. Fingers? Harder, because it meant letting go of the mattress, but he managed it. Arms, legs, neck, stomach...eventually he managed to relax it all, even his ass. It helped when Sam did little things like make soothing noises or rub his back.

He started to become aware that Sam's cock felt good inside him. It still hurt a bit, but it was also sort of amazing. And if he shifted a bit so it pushed in just a bit deeper, it felt even better.

"You're moving," Sam said. "Does that mean you're ready for me to move too?"

"Yeah. Slowly."

Sam pulled out a tiny bit and pushed back in, as slowly as he could. It took almost more self-control to go slow like this than it had taken to hold completely still. Slowly pushing into Blaine a little bit felt so good it just made him need to push in more and faster.

A few more slow, shallow thrusts had Sam convinced that this was the best and simultaneously worst, most frustrating experience of his life. "How are you doing, Blaine?" he asked, though just asking made him feel like kind of a jerk. Cause while he did care how Blaine was doing, what he really, really wanted was for Blaine to assure him that he was fine and that he could start fucking him hard.

"Fuck, Sam."

Sam wasn't sure if that was an answer or a command or what. He decided to test the command theory first. "Yeah?" he asked, thrusting a little harder. "You want me to fuck you?"

"Fuck," Blaine repeated. Words weren't his friends at the moment; words barely registered in his consciousness. His whole consciousness was consumed with Sam's cock inside him. He pushed back on it hard, hoping to convey his meaning that way. And then another word that might help popped into his head, and he told Sam, "More."

It was the perfect word; it was the exact word Sam wanted to hear more than anything. He pulled most of the way out and plunged back in fast. Blaine fisted the pillow and screamed, but it wasn't a clear pain scream like the first one. And then there was the word again, _More_, and Sam stopped holding back.

"So. Good. Blaine. _Fuck_. Feels. So. _Good._"

"More, Sammy."

Sam looked down at Blaine being jostled with every thrust on the flimsy hideaway mattress. He watched his cock disappear over and over into Blaine's perfect ass, and he was so turned on by how good Blaine was taking it.

More, Blaine just wanted more. More of Sam's cock slamming into his ass, more of Sam's fucking motions rocking him back and forth. His dick was pinned under him with only the sheet to rub against, and yet it was so hard and so needy that the friction from the sheet felt awesome. He was going to come just from this, he could feel it, and he was close, so close.

And then Sam's cock grew even more, expanding where there was no room to expand, and Sam started sputtering, "Oh fuck oh fuck oh _fuck_," and drilling into him so hard and fast that he could barely stand it. And he felt—and he could swear he even _heard_—Sam's spunk gush into him, filling his ass to overflowing.

Sam slumped onto Blaine's back, never having felt so limp and content. He kissed Blaine's shoulder blade and mumbled, "That was amazing." He was starting to doze off when he felt Blaine sort of wiggling or something under him. "I'm sorry," he said, rolling off. "I didn't mean to crush you."

"No, you didn't," Blaine said, but he looked kind of pained so Sam wasn't sure—until he added, "It's just that I didn't come yet..."

"Oh, duh!" Sam said. "I just...had my mind blown and I wasn't thinking. Sorry."

He turned Blaine onto his back and took his red, leaking cock in his hand. With two fingers of his other hand he touched the head, spreading the precome around. Blaine knew he was close, but he was surprised to find himself coming the very second his cock came into contact with both Sam's hands. But as soon as Sam realized what was happening he jerked and kissed him through it while Blaine mindlessly thrust into and spilled over Sam's fist, ending with a full-body shudder. He opened his eyes and smiled up at Sam.

"I was gonna blow you," Sam said.

"Damn. Maybe next time." Blaine immediately regretted saying that, because obviously this had to be a one-time thing. "I mean...it was pretty amazing as it was."

"Yeah. And again, I'm really so—"

"Don't," Blaine said. "Don't apologize. It was amazing. Let's leave it at that."

Sam nodded. "It was amazing."

Blaine stood up. He picked up his t-shirt and used it to clean the come off himself, his own and Sam's.

"Do you wanna use the shower?" Sam asked.

"No thanks. I should really get back upstairs before..."

"Yeah, okay."

Blaine found his underwear and some pajama pants that he had apparently removed by the door before Sam even knew he was there. He put them back on and held the t-shirt uncertainly. "Do you have some dirty laundry I could mix this in with?" Sam pointed to a basket and Blaine stuck the shirt under some jeans.

Sam found his own underwear in the sheets and put them back on. He recovered himself with the sheets. "So. See you at breakfast?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Blaine said. As he climbed the stairs he added, "Night."

**A/N 2: I'm not tagging this complete but there's a good chance this is all there will be. Also, as a public service reminder, let me just say that these are fictional characters and you should not do what they do, particularly regarding their total failure to even mention condoms.**


End file.
